Illuminated Whispers
by Hope's Voice
Summary: Phoenix Jackson-foster sister of Percy Jackson is traumatized after the war. To help her deal with it, she's been sent to Hogwarts boarding school in Scotland. But when Percy goes missing and Phoenix discovers Hogwarts isn't all what it seems, she's in for trouble. And if she doesn't run away fast enough, she might be the next victim. Set in HBP/HoO. Possible trigger warning.
1. Prelude

**Illuminated Whispers**

**Summary:** Surrogate twin of Percy Jackson, Phoenix has always been the odd one out with her weaker powers, lack of physical strength, and lack of godly claiming. There's always been something different about her that singled her out from other demigods. Some don't believe she's Poseidon's descendant; some whisper that she may be one of Hecate's from the darker times, a Medea of the modern age.

After the Titan War, Phoenix is left traumatized by the effects of war and is mysteriously sent an invitation to attend a boarding school by the odd name of Hogwarts, and she leaps at the chance to leave her bloody past behind her. But once she arrives, she realizes that she might have stumbled onto an even dangerous world and possibly the truth to her real identity. When she receives news that her foster brother has disappeared she is split between choosing one of the two worlds.

Illuminate the dark whispers surrounding her life or going back to her false living? Fight one war behind the Chosen One or the other behind the Seven?

**{Lengthy [old/2011] Author's Note}** I know that Percy Jackson and Harry Potter did not even live in the same time period. Well, actually they did. But they weren't the same age. Harry Potter is older than Percy Jackson by _years_. But for the sake of fanfiction, here it is. _Illuminated Whispers_ was created as a reminder of '_The Son of Neptune_'.

'_Illuminated Whispers_' will feature Phoenix Pearl Jackson as the main character. She's not mentioned in any books and is completely original. I usually have qualms about reading about OC's (especially OFC's) because they tend to head towards the Mary Sue section, but I'll try my best to keep her from that area even though it originally started somewhere in that horrid, horrid direction. (I'm _not_ making her the daughter of Voldemort lol for people who might have deduced that from the full summary.) Also: The updates will be _[extremely, ridiculously]_ slow, but please bear with me. Reviews would be lovely when I get chapters up. Thanks for reading this!

**Pairings: **Percy/Annabeth, Ron/Hermione, Harry/Ginny, Octavian/OFC, brief Luke/OFC, Draco/OFC, Leo/Calypso, Frank/Hazel, Jason/Piper

**Warnings: **Major Character Death, Mildly descriptive violence (possibly heavier?), canonical character death, angst, hurt/comfort, spoilers for both series, possible trigger warning

**Disclaimer:** All other characters belong to Rick Riordan or J.K Rowling. Snatches of the plot from the actual books also belong to them. You may see some references to those plots. This story takes place in '_The Heroes of Olympus_' series and '_The Half-Blood Prince_'.

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><p><strong>Illuminated Whispers {Prelude}<strong>

Desperation flowed into my tone the way blood would soon flow from his flesh. I cried his name out so loud that I felt like my lungs were about to burst free from my chest. There were other words in that single syllable too: _Don't do this! We can find a way. Please, let us help. There has to be another way. Stay with us; stay with _me.

The sharp blade of the knife plunged into his soft flesh with a soft sucking noise, disappearing into his pale flesh. My knees gave way when I fell onto the ground, staring at him in horror. There was a sudden flash of brilliant light so bright and powerful—the last rays of a dying sun, and I was forced to turn away and shield my eyes in protection.

(What was there left to protect? I lost everything I didn't know I had in the same moment that I won all I ever wanted, and it was the worse combination of feelings possible. I was broken and then fixed, torn apart and then brought together, hewn away from the life I had before getting sewn onto the piece of life that always seemed like the greener side of the grassy field until I finally reached it and looked back at what I had lost on the way.)

When I opened them again, he was sprawled on the ground, red liquid sprouting freely from his wound instead of the golden ichor of the immortal gods. We were all finally free, but I was still locked up inside and waging a war against the Titan of Time himself even though his essence had scattered in tiny pieces around the world in front of me. I felt like my soul had scattered along with Kronos, and I was drifting away and falling to pieces because this couldn't just happened. He _wasn't_ dying. He _wasn't _bleeding to death on the floor of Olympus, and I _wasn't _dying on the inside.

But we all knew that it wasn't true.

Percy, Annabeth, and Grover became a distant part of my peripheral vision, and I paid them no attention when I ran over to where _he _was. He was completely human now: weak, vulnerable, _dying_.

(I was dying too, just not as visibly.)

"Luke!" I cried again, my own voice sounding as broken as the body I now held in my arms. Warm liquid was staining my hands and making little valleys of rivulets down my arms. A vague part of me recognized that it was his blood.

His blue eyes met mine. It was no longer the strange golden that I had grown to hate, and fresh tears rolled down my cheeks in sync with his blood. His lips moved softly, but no words came out. It was just the horrible sound of a dying person trying to take in air in their failing lungs. I leaned down and pressed my lips against his, letting my salty tears fall onto his pale face as I cried.

It was bittersweet with a tang of saltiness. I felt the softness of his lips moving against mine and the cold warmth growing in the pit of my stomach. I moved my lips forcefully against his like I could bring him back with a simple touch of my lips. He kissed back, and I let my lips part slightly for the (final) sweep and taste of his tongue against mine.

"Phoenix," Luke finally whispered against my lips once he pulled away. Our lips and nose were still touching, and our breaths mixed together until we were breathing each other's air, and I could feel the harshness of every breath he took. My hands were cupped around his cheeks, looking like I was attempting to pull him from the sinking depths of his death. I stared into the dimming skies of his blue eyes, and my vision clouded over with tears once more. He gave me a pained smile that tugged and tore at my heart. "Let me go."

He wasn't talking about my arms that were wrapped around him.

(I let him go.)

I let him go with tears streaming down my face and the sound of my heart beating in my ears even though it had frozen over the moment he plunged the blade in his Achilles heel.

He wasn't the only one who died that day.

(Because a part of me died along with him.)

(But the difference was that I was still here. He wasn't.)

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><p><strong>New AN:** I edited the really horrible 2011 version of the prologue. I cringed when I realize I hadn't updated or written this in two years, and then I cringed when I looked back at my horrible writing. So I cleaned up my mess and changed the plotline. (Twin? Seriously? Talk about Mary Sue-ism. I changed it to SURROGATE twin [see what just one tiny word does] which means _basically_ in the loosest sense means 'adoptive' to people who don't know.)

I apologize for the use of parentheses because the majority of people hate them and is just seen as sloppy style in general, but I seriously love them so much that it's become sort of a habit after two full original fiction stories of using them. It's just a matter of preference. I swear I'll stop. It'll only be in the prelude, because I only use parentheses for immensely disturbed/broken characters. I know you all must really hate my antithesis and semi-colons too. Man, I'm the epitome of 'things you should not do as a writer'. I'LL TRY TO CUT DOWN! I PROMISE!

Sorry if it's too graphic. I'm too used to writing and reading for an older audience now (cough, _Supernatural_ [namely Destiel fics] cough), so it feels weird to revert back to the young teen audience. Please tell me if it's too graphic. I'll go back to sweeping things underneath the mat when these scenes arrive.

(And I wrote a kissing scene that is not a total fail, and I'm slightly proud of it! Oh my dolphins, finally AFTER FIVE YEARS OF BADLY WRITTEN KISSING SCENES. Wanna give me criticism on it? Please?)


	2. A Liberating Letter

**{Chapter One: A Liberating Letter}**

By the time a week was over since the Titan War, people had learned not to talk about Luke Castellan to me or even in vicinity. I slept in his old bed in the Hermes cabin, trying to remember his scent that had long since faded since he betrayed everyone and left.

During the first week, multiple people had come to say how sorry they were for me. They all stopped when I uncharacteristically lost my temper and attempted to smash my fist into Pollux's nose when he offered his sincere condolence and said he understood the depths of my pain because he lost his twin Castor a year ago. I think I had screamed something about not wanting his pity, but all I remember at the time was red pain.

No one spoke about Luke around me since then.

Luke was regarded as a traitor by some but a hero at the last minute by most. To me, he was a lover that never was. I wouldn't go as far as to compare him to the stars that shone in the night sky, or the North Star who guided wayward castaways home. I was never really the poet, but I couldn't help thinking of him every time I closed my eyes. It was so painful that I had become numb to everything around me, and Rachel constantly worried that I was slipping away.

I looked at the Celestial bronze blade he had given me when I first arrived at Camp Half-Blood every night. Forgetting about him was the easiest way to keep on living, but I might as well dip myself in the River Lethe because I couldn't forget about those blue eyes that haunted my dreams. I once considered pretending to be myself again by joking about becoming 'Bobbie' after wiping my memories at the River Lethe just like Percy erased Iapetus' once and renamed him 'Bob'. That was until I realized they were going to think I was being suicidal, so I disregarded faking it in favour of dying silently on the inside.

So I continued on like this for the entirety of the week, letting the rest of my summer drift by and wondering how I was going to continue high school in such a broken state. I was so pathetic that the old me would have laughed. Or at least I think she would have. I couldn't remember anymore through the haze of pain.

Pain was like morphine. I was feeling so much that my capacity to feel didn't work, and I was numbed. I knew that it would wear off eventually; I would be left at the mercy of overwhelming pain once again until my death day. For now, I would sit quietly in the sand dunes and watch the waves of water.

Drew Tanaka made it no easier for me. She was a vindictive type of person who always tried to bring people down no matter what was going on. At the moment, the Japanese girl was talking about how I just wanted attention and that no one could love someone _that _much at the measly age of sixteen. A hint of humour crept up on me; the irony of an Aphrodite girl speaking about this was not lost on me.

I didn't contradict her because I knew she wanted it. She wanted to get a rise out of me. I was sure she talked about me losing my temper on Pollux. I was sorely sorry for that and apologized to him the very next day, and he accepted my apology. We didn't talk again.

Drew's chatter faded away when she realized she couldn't get a rise out of me. Curling my arms tighter around my drawn up knees, I rested my head between them and listened to the sound of the waves and water. Though I was not technically claimed as a daughter of Poseidon, I had always associated myself with him, and he never said so otherwise.

Drew had always been the one to twist that. She said I was a daughter of Hecate, and while there was nothing wrong with that, she continued to spin tales that I was one from her darker Ancient Greek ages. I was a Medea, a woman who practiced witchcraft, came from the barbarous Black Sea, and murdered her own children for the sake of 'getting back' at her disloyal husband. The tales that she spun were absurd, but people listened.

I stopped letting it bother me the day Luke died.

I heard footsteps behind me against the sand, and I closed my eyes, knowing that someone was heading for me. Being alone was something I used to hate; being alone was something that I now craved.

"Phoenix!" It was Rachel Elizabeth Dare, the girl I got along the best with. She didn't fit in, and I didn't either. We were immediate friends, our personalities melding perfectly into each other the same way Annabeth's could have meld with her if the worry of Percy's heart didn't lie between them.

Now I was finding her presence tiresome. I liked Rachel; I truly did, but it did not excuse her from the fact that I needed time away from people and voices and emotions. I wanted to feel nothing. I wanted to be away from this place.

"Phoenix!" she said again, her voice sounding closer now. I lifted my head tiredly to see her heading over to me with a letter in her hands. She slowed her pace once she had gotten my attention. "There was a letter mailed to the Big House today. It's addressed to you. Chiron seemed surprised and wouldn't tell anyone about it, but he said it would be good for you," she said breathlessly, handing the letter over to me.

Taking the letter gingerly in my hand, I opened it without knowing what to expect. A masochist part of me said it was written by Luke before he died and mailed to the Big House, but I knew the chances of that was small the moment I saw my name in the front in curly handwriting that belonged to no one I knew. Rachel leaned over curiously, not leaving until I opened it.

_Ms. P Jackson_

_Cabin #11_

_Camp Half-Blood_

_Long Island Sound_

_UNITED STATES OF AMERICA_

Feeling a stir of interest that I hadn't felt in ages, I tore open the letter and read the contents while wondering if this was an elaborate joke.

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock,_

_Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

Dear Ms. Jackson,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September.

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Enclosed was a long list of books about witchcraft that I didn't even think exist. "This isn't funny," I finally said, looking up at Rachel with confusion. Had Drew really taken her little rumour one childish step forward? She didn't seem like the kind of person, and Travis and Connor Stoll would never be this cruel. I continued looking through to find an extra note showing a map of London. "So I have to be at King's Cross Station in London on September first."

I was vaguely amused. Maybe the Stolls were trying to cheer me up.

Rachel stared at it with confusion. "Chiron looked serious when he told me to deliver it to you. He doesn't joke around."

We both stared at the letter for a while, the sound of crashing waves the only noise heard in the background. Finally I said, "If it's real, then I'm glad." It was meant to be sarcastic, but the moment I said it I realized how true it was. If this was real, then I could start anew no matter how weird and mocking it sounded when Drew occasionally talked about how I was a witch instead of a demigod.

"Let's go back to the Big House and demand some answers," Rachel suggested, and I nodded numbly, clutching the letter in my hand like it was my lifeline that was attempting to pull me away from the death and devastation Luke Castellan had wrecked upon my life.

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><p>Chiron confirmed it all to be true, but he wouldn't clarify. In older days, I would have demanded until he gave in like Rachel tried to do, but I didn't have any energy. I ended up packing some of my stuff from the Hermes Cabin in a luggage to get ready to head to the airport when September neared. From there, I was to be driven to King's Cross Station by older British demigods Chiron was in contact with.<p>

"Where are you going?" Percy asked one day when he saw my luggage. He had a concerned look on his face like he thought I was going to do something hurtful to myself. I didn't blame him; I would have been doing the exact same thing in his place.

"I don't know," I admitted. When Percy's expression tightened, I realized that it wasn't exactly the brightest thing to say to your foster brother. "Chiron's sending me somewhere in Britain," I said carefully. His eyebrows scrunched in confusion and he opened his mouth to say something before I interrupted him. "I need time away from America, Percy."

My voice fell at the end, and I realized I had voiced my true thoughts for the first time in ages. I really did need time away from this land of pain. Everywhere I looked, I saw Luke and it hurt me more than I could put into spoken words.

I had tried to talk about him to Rachel after he died, but all that came out was little gasps of air and broken sobs. That was the first and last time I cried since his death.

"All right," he finally said, though he didn't sound too happy about it. "Keep in contact, okay? Remember to IM us some time." He smiled at me, and I gave a very hesitant smile back, remembering when these smiles had come so easily.

"I will," I lied. I wasn't going to keep in contact, at least not for a long while until I found a way to heal my broken shards.

He believed me.

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><p>I found myself tugging along a sad little luggage onto the Greyhound bus in the afternoon of the last day of August. I waved an indolent goodbye at my friends before I boarded the bus with all my belongings in a faded pink luggage. "Bye," I whispered against the window when the bus began to drive away, my breath momentarily fogging up the window.<p>

The bus drove on like it was any other day, which I suppose it was. I clutched the letter tight in my hands the entire time, watching the world I had always known disappear behind me as I stepped into another.

If I felt any freer than before, it didn't dawn on me.

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><p><strong>AN:** I feel really bad for not updating for TWO YEARS. Well the least I can say is that my writing improved and the older version would have me rushing to rewrite it or delete it, but no fear of that (well not as much) by continuing it now. To older readers,** I edited and changed the first chapter** because it was horribly written in my point of view, so please read it! It's the same but different. (Yeah, just **read it**, please?) The plotline has also changed because by the DOLPHINS, Phoenix had such a Mary Sue potential that I nearly threw up. The fact that it was originally focused on her love square between Luke/Octavian/Draco just made it worse. I'm happy to say that has changed and this story has a real plotline now, no matter how vague. Anyway, reviews=love! All characters mentioned are canon. If you need reminders:

Iapetus/'Bob': Appears in '_The Demigod Files' _and '_The House of Hades_'  
>Drew: Appears in '<em>The Lost Hero<em>'  
>Pollux: Appears in <em>'The Battle of the Labyrinth<em>' and '_The Last Olympian_'


	3. Wilting Blossoms

**There may be some inaccuracies, and I realize that I'll have to reread HBP again. Possible self-harm trigger warning here. It's very minor though- not as bad as the trigger warning makes it sound. About the chapter title, it was originally called "Wilting Blossoms and Summer Skies" but I thought the title was too long, so I shortened it. (Though I AM using that title for a different [original fic/slash] story...)**

**I'm trying to develop the Luke/Phoenix backstory and Phoenix's (nearly Mary-Sue sounding) past throughout the story instead of in one chapter. I swear, I'm trying to make her not a Mary Sue. Please tell me if she comes off Mary Sue-ish, because I need to fix that pronto.**

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><p><strong>{Chapter Two: Wilting Blossoms}<strong>

Our relationship had never been planned or expected. When I had first arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I was a battered ten year old castaway who washed up alone in a white lifeboat on the sandy shores of Long Island Sound. I don't remember much of it except for the feeling of a dry sandpaper tongue and a swirl of agitated noises around me that sounded strange after so many unremembered days on the ocean with nothing but the crashing waves, fish, and birds like the albatrosses to keep me company.

Beyond that sensation, there was nothing else except for the splash of water against the lifeboat. That sound should have been causing me some sort of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder after being stranded in the ocean for so long, but it was oddly calming. I kept telling myself that this was because I was a descendant of Poseidon's children, but I wasn't really quite sure of it myself. In reality, I didn't know who exactly I was, but I never said so because it was one thing to have others doubt you and another thing to doubt yourself in front of the very people who suspect you're nothing but trouble.

I didn't remember anything of my past when I got off that lifeboat and recovered due to the food of the gods. That I was able to consume nectar and ambrosia without combusting proved my godly lineage, but I had also proven time and time again that my godly side was much diluted by my human side.

I wasn't a real half-blood, and yet I lived on their training grounds. Being one of the youngest arrivals besides Annabeth, I was sullen, forlorn, and surly to everyone around me. Something kept nudging at the back of my head, but I couldn't recall anything except for flashes of coloured lights and strange words of a different language.

In my days of loneliness, Luke Castellan was the only one who gave me the time of the day. He pushed when others back away, and he tugged when others let go. I remember sitting in the sand dunes one day when the teenager had suddenly approached me with an easy smile, windswept blond hair, and a Celestial bronze sword in the hilt on his hip. "Hi," he had said kindly when he knelt down beside me.

Of course, I was merely a child to him at the time, but that didn't stop any impressions from sinking in and holding its grasp in my soul. He was smiling at me with shining blue eyes. I noted that it reminded me of the summer sky. I was instantly suspicious; I had gone two days without the company of other campers and now suddenly one was being friendly to me.

At the back of my ten year old mind, I registered that Chiron the centaur must have sent this teenager over to coax answers out of me in case I was an enemy. I didn't know where that cynical thought came from, but it left almost immediately while I stared at his attractive and formerly unscarred face. His pale pink lips moved while he spoke. "What's your name?"

I curled up tighter into myself and muttered a single word, hoping that he would leave me alone.

Unfortunately for my ten year old self, he sat down now, his legs crossed while he looked at me while a warm smile upon his lips. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. I'm Luke."

"Phoenix," I said, my voice slightly louder now though muffled by the crashing of waves and my new Camp Half-Blood clothing. "Phoenix Pearl." Something about saying my name made an inherent swell of indignation rise in me that must have sprout from my childhood across the seas in wherever. "My initials are PP, but _don't _call me Pee-Pee," I found myself warning him, my tone growing higher with each word.

To my surprise, Luke threw his head back and laughed. I watched him curiously, taking in the handsome features of his face and the strands of hair that seemed golden when it caught the sunlight. He finally looked at me with those eyes of his and said, "Welcome to Camp Half-Blood, Phoenix Pearl," with a grin upon his lips.

I think it was then that I began to fall in love with him.

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><p>Everything went by quickly after I had gotten off at the airport from the bus. From there, I went through the security measures, and my Celestial bronze went by unchecked courtesy of the Mist. I boarded the airplane, taking an uncomfortable seat near the back in the middle between a paunchy man sweating profusely from his pores in his unorthodox sweater and a chatty teenage boy. His eyes were bright when he favoured talking to me about his summer trip in America over gazing out the window. I nodded politely to everything he was saying, listening but not listening at the same time. Finally, he asked me what I was going to London for, since I was clearly American.<p>

_I'm running away from everything that I can't handle. _"I'm attending school overseas," I said, trying to sound insouciant and boring as possible so he wouldn't ask me about it.

"Oh?" he said, sounding a little interested for a moment before his tone lost that curiosity and he went back to talking about his adventure once more. I continued to smile and nod at the parts where he was talking animatedly while retreating further and further into myself.

Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to isolate myself from everyone even further by venturing across the ocean. No one was following me here. When I was at Camp Half-Blood, my friends had tied an invisible string around me, pulling me closer to them every time I tried to pull away. Leaving Camp Half-Blood was like taking a pair of scissors and cutting loose. I had no one to hold onto, and I felt like I was falling down from the precipice I had been standing on since Luke died.

If it came to it, I knew I would keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

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><p>Typically, it was raining when I arrived in London. Some of the passengers grumbled or smiled nostalgically; I was indifferent. The dreariness of the rain was a startling change from the sunshine of Long Island Sound, and while I was reassured by the boy who sat beside me on the plane that it wasn't going to rain the whole week, I honestly found myself enjoying the change. Here, I could pretend that what happened a few weeks ago never happened in the first place. I could pretend that I didn't help end a war. I could pretend that I didn't hold a dying friend who I was also in love with in my arms when the war ended.<p>

I had told him that I would figure a way. I had promised.

Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I focused on a distant splash of a blue suitcase until I was able to push the memory away. I was immediately approached by a beautiful redheaded woman wearing a red trench coat, her heels clicking behind her. "Phoenix Pearl?" she asked me through her English accent. I assumed that she was one of the British demigods that Chiron said would pick me up from the airport.

"Yes," I confirmed, not pointing out that she had missed the second half of my surname. Maybe it was best to leave 'Jackson' behind from where I had come from. "You're a demigod?"

She seemed to scoff at that term. "Of a sort," she said, motioning me to follow her through the crowd. I did, pulling my faded pink luggage along behind me that carried all my possessions from America. "It's of a diluted bloodline. I'm a descendant of Aphrodite."

So she was like me: a child of a diluted bloodline. I didn't say anything else, and she didn't try to spur any small talk while we made our way out of the airport and to a waiting car. I sat in the car silently and listened to the classical music that was playing from the station while staring out the rain splattered window at the grey sky and gloomy overcast.

The chauffeur talked pleasantly with the redheaded woman about sports, and I tuned out on them until I heard my name being called. Turning my head, my eyes met the chauffeur's through the mirror. "What school are you attending?" he asked me.

I looked down at the letter I was clutching in my hand. I had pulled it out and stared at it the moment I got into the car. "Hogwarts School," I muttered, keeping the 'Witchcraft and Wizardry' out of my answer because it was just absurd. I was sure that the Stolls had somehow gotten that in as a joke along with the materials list, and I hadn't taken it seriously. I was a little curious about what the school was like, but my sullenness after the War had drowned out most of my emotions with chilling numbness.

His eyebrows rose. "Of Witchcraft and Wizardry?" he asked me, and his tone sounded much too serious to be joking.

"Apparently," I said, managing to pull in a little sarcasm that usually accompanied me everywhere until Luke's death.

"Aren't you a demigod?" he asked me, sounding perplexed now.

"Of a sort," I said, subconsciously imitating the redheaded woman's answer. "I'm a daughter of a demigod, descendant of Poseidon." At the very least, I could manipulate water. It wilted in comparison to Percy's power, but I was often proud of it.

"And you're a witch," he stated.

I felt a stir of indignation and frustration at that word. Drew and her friends liked to call me a witch behind my back. According to them, I was one of Hecate's offspring in a not flattering way. I was like Medea to the Athenians, a barbarian from the Black Sea, and it didn't help that I was a castaway. Some never let me forget that. "I'm not a witch," I said carefully, keeping my emotions in check. "I'm a descendant from Poseidon."

His eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. "Then how come you got a letter for Hogwarts? And you're not eleven. If you would have gotten a letter, wouldn't you have received the one for Salem's Institution since you're American?" What he was saying made no sense to me, and I frowned at him. The redheaded woman in the passenger seat sighed.

"You're overloading her with information," she said. "Pearl, you're going to a school designed for young witches and wizards." At my flummoxed expression, she said, "I'm neither lying to you nor joking. Your cloak and some school items that we could scavenge are in the trunk. All your other materials will be sent by owl once you reach the school." We pulled to a stop at the station before I could say anything. The redheaded woman began to help me gather my luggage and the other trunks she had gotten for me.

When we finally got everything on a trolley and she began to pull me towards the station, I said, "Are you serious?"

She stared at me without amusement. "Oh, as serious as you can get," she told me. I noticed that other families were also at King's Cross station, and I wondered if they were 'witches' and 'wizards'. I still couldn't wrap my head around that. Demigods had sounded crazy enough, but I had grown up on that notion so that it didn't seem odd anymore. "Now we're heading for Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. It should be between Nine and Ten."

I stared at her while she scanned the area, finally settling on a massive stone column. "There it is," she said, pointing to it.

"It's a wall," I stated, wondering if she had lost her mind. If this were a joke, it certainly wasn't funny. "I don't see a platform."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Just stay confident. Follow me." Walking ahead of me with confident steps, she approached the wall and then _walked right through it_. I stared at the wall before I started to nervously draw near the stone. I closed my eyes, taking a step forward that would surely lead to crashing against the wall—

There was a whoosh of air and then I was on the other side. I opened my eyes and was greeted by the sight of families milling around in black robes, the hoots of owls in cages, and the entire oddity of it.

It looked like what Camp Half-Blood would seem if they all congregated with their families of all ages, wore black robes, and were stuck on platform. No one spared me a second glance, and the redheaded woman was waiting for me by the waiting train.

"You don't want to be late," she said, ushering and helping me on the train. Some of the children and teens waiting to board the train behind me gave me odd looks. She noticed that I seemed conscious of that and gave me a reassuring smile. "You're sixteen, and they're wondering why they haven't seen you around before. Don't be worried."

I didn't want the attention of other people; I had come to London for the purposes of fading into the background and starting anew. The attention I would come to receive would violate the first purpose. I should have expected it being an American student, but I had hoped that I would lose that attention eventually. "Thank you," I managed to say before pulling my luggage along while holding my trunk.

She smiled at me. "I'll see you at Christmas Break," she said before moving away, her red trench coat being obscured by black robes. I realized that I hadn't even asked for her name, but it was too late now.

I pulled my luggage along, noticing how I was the only one with a faded pink luggage on wheels. It made squeaking noises along the floor, and I had to pull it free from bumps often while I looked for empty compartments. Multiple people stared at me with unabashed curiosity when I walked by. I assumed it was because of my odd attire. The t-shirt was courtesy of Thalia; it was black and showed a Barbie doll with arrows stuck through it. The words on the shirt proclaimed _Death to Barbie! _My jeans were a birthday gift from Rachel. They were zebra printed, so my whole attire was very black-and-white chic as one of Aphrodite kids told me. Once upon a time, I would have taken pride in my closet choices that were actually good, but now I didn't notice what I threw on.

The attention was making me nervous, and I hoped that I had robes in the trunk.

I finally made it to an empty compartment at the end of the train. I spread my trunk and my luggage around the carriage, making sure to take up as much room as possible. I didn't want to sit with anyone. I just wanted a few hours to myself alone on a train heading to an unknown destination far away from Camp Half-Blood.

Luckily, no one approached my compartment when the train started moving, and I was left alone with my thoughts and some memorabilia in my luggage that I had spread across my seat. I packed away the white notebook with the design of a blue blossom on it almost immediately, imaging it wilting before my eyes. After folding and refolding some of my clothing, I packed them away once again. After staring at the orange camp t-shirt for a while, I buried it at the bottom of my luggage along with my camp beads. The Celestial bronze of the knife gleamed, catching flashes of the sunlight emerging after the rain.

For a brief second, I was overwhelmed by the thoughts of blue eyes, sandy hair, and a handsome smile. Pain stabbed at my chest, and I gripped the handle of the blade. I shut my eyes tightly, tears pressing against my eyelids as I tried to push out the pain. I hadn't even noticed that my hand had moved automatically to press the smooth side of the blade against my wrist until I opened my eyes. I gasped at the sight of it and dropped the weapon with a clatter. Shakily, I tried to even out my breaths before I picked up the dagger-knife and shoved it in my luggage.

When the afternoon dragged by, a trolley lady came to my compartment bearing sweets that I had never heard or seen of. I was hungry, but the redheaded woman had packed me a sandwich and a box of juice. I had a feeling the trolley lady wouldn't accept the few crumpled American bills I had in my luggage. I turned her down kindly.

Later, I headed up the corridor past compartment C to find the restroom. I accidentally stumbled into student coming out of a compartment and muttered an apology. He gave me a strange look before heading away. The compartment door was still opened, and students stared at me while I walked past with my head down low.

"Who is that?" someone said. Another person responded, but I was too far away to hear anything except the word '_American_' said like I was some sort of intruder.

Everything was so strange, and the students heading through the corridors all stared at me. I made a note not to look at them. I was the outsider here, and I knew it. This was not how I expected being overseas to feel like, and I wondered how Percy was doing back in Goode High School.

I had come here to escape, but it looked like I was delving into an entirely new world.

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><p><strong>You may notice the idea I'm toying with is explicit here. She's a descendant, not a daughter of Poseidon. Basically daughter of a demigod. You may notice something that looks like a plot hole here...there's no children of Poseidon besides Percy in this century according to the PJO books. It'll be explained eventually.<strong>

**Reviews/criticism/suggestions would be amazing! (What are you guy thinking about any Draco interaction in this fic? The original version of this was originally a love story...featuring Draco. Of course that has changed, but anyone interested in the idea? I could easily throw it back in, but I am obviously not going to make that the main focus.) I also wanna write a little bit of slash in the background with minor OC students, but not explicit slash. It'll be like het, but just with two males instead, so don't worry people-who-avoid-slash-like-the-plague. (I used to be like that too because I had the wrong impression of it...)**


	4. An Outsider

**Chapter not proof read yet. The Sorting arrangements were done following this meta:**

**andythanfiction. tumblr post/77733004154/a-comprehensive-daydverse-guide-to-sorting**

**I think that everybody should read it. Eliminates all biases and stereotypes. It's a great meta. TL;DR: SPN [analogy-ish] version, according to the meta, Dean would be Hufflepuff, Sam would be Slytherin, and Cas would be Gryffindor.**

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><p><strong>{Chapter Three: An Outsider}<strong>

It wasn't surprising when all the other students ignored me while we made our way out of the train in Hogsmeade station. A part of me thought the name was fairly funny to behold, but that quickly died away. A large man stood silhouetted against the shadows with a lantern in his hand while calling out for the first-years. I stumbled forward in the darkness, bumping into a few students on the way who gave startled yelps. I muttered a quick impenitent apology before continuing onwards. I had thrown on my cloak around my clothes earlier, not bothering to change into the skirt and the white button-down.

Cloaked adults were stationed around us, immobile and watching us with cautiousness. My cloak flapped open in the wind, and I accidentally caught the eye of one of the adults. He frowned at my attire disapprovingly, making me feel more of an outsider than I already felt. He didn't say anything, but it didn't make me feel any better. Feeling singled out, I tugged my jean jacket that I had thrown on inside of my cloak before leaving the train tighter around myself.

Feeling lost amongst the sea of students, I tentatively tapped the shoulder of a redheaded boy with a smattering of freckles across his face. He spun around to face me immediately, a frown on his face that wasn't unfriendly but not entirely welcoming either. "Um, this is my first day here; do you know where I should go?"

He looked like he was about to shoo me away with nothing more than a shrug, but then a look of realization came across his face that made him answer. "I'm assuming that you follow that man over there," he said, pointing at the large man who towered unnaturally over the students. I looked warily over at him, the demigod training in me instantly wondering if he were some sort of monster.

I pushed it out of my mind. This was not the time to be thinking about demigods again. I had come here to get away from them, not to reminisce of them every second I got for homesickness. "Thanks," I muttered, heading away from him quickly before he could ask any questions. A cluster of children assembled around him, shuffling forward in the dark. When I joined the group, they all stared at me but didn't say anything. The large man didn't comment on it either; in fact, he didn't even seem to notice the sore thumb that was me.

"All of yer are 'ere now? Follow me!" he said cheerily in a somewhat accented tone. We followed him to the edge of the lake where there were boats lined up along the shore. "Get in yer boats; come along now!" We all started to load on our boats in pairs. I ended up with a skinny blonde girl with wide enthusiastic eyes. When the boats started moving all at once by themselves, she turned those eyes to me.

"You're awfully big for an eleven year old," she said unabashedly while she stared at me. "I don't think I've ever met anyone the same age your size!"

An unexpected smile made its way on my face. I hadn't talked with children like this in a long time. There weren't many kids back at Camp Half-Blood, and the ones who were there definitely didn't want to talk to me due to somewhat frightening rumours about me courtesy of Drew Tanaka. "I'm not eleven," I said. "I'm sixteen."

She looked startled at this news. "Then why are you here?" she asked me. "Why are you not with other sixth-years?"

"It's my first time here," I admitted while staring at the dark murky waters of the lake.

Her eyes lit up with understanding. "So that's why you have an American accent!" she said. A grin lit her face. "I've never heard one before," she told me. "My name is Tara; what's yours?"

"Phoenix," I said immediately, barely able to repress the urge to add 'Jackson' at the end of it. Instead, I said, "Phoenix Pearl." Before she could respond, the large man announced that we were approaching the castle now where we would be spending our studies in.

_Castle_. The word echoed in my head, and I wondered what exactly I was getting into. I was still getting used to the idea of witches and wizards in addition to demigod eating monsters. A part of me coped better when I just thought of the witches and wizards as descendants of Hecate. That was the idea I was sticking to.

Mere seconds after he made his announcement, glowing lights and tall towers came into view that evoked the awes of reverence from the children around me. I couldn't say that I wasn't also impressed. Rising above the loch was a giant castle spiraling upwards towards the night sky with its numerous towers and turrets. I stared at the majestic view, barely about to believe that I was attending _school_ here. "Wow," I managed after a moment of wide-eyed staring. Lights seemed to dance around the castle, enchanting the stone in soft yellows and oranges.

We drifted on in an awed silence only broken by whisperings of a child nearby and the sound of the boats cutting a smooth path through the water while we headed closer to the castle. We ducked our heads when we reached the first cliff — with me crouching down more so because of my size compared to the others, drifting into the tunnels that seemed to run beneath the castle. The boats eventually bumped against the ground harbour, and students were beginning to tumble out of their boats onto the rocks and pebbles. I stepped out of the wooden planks and onto the sandy shores, holding out a hand to pull Tara out. She grasped onto my hand with her tiny ones, and I was once again struck with the realization of how far I was running away from the demigods.

Tara held onto my hand while she pulled me up the flight of stone steps up to the large, oak door. After making sure everyone was present, he knocked three times on the door, letting his knocks echo around in the room.

Before we even had time for anticipation, the door swung open immediately. It startled a few students, including myself. A tall, black-haired woman in green robes that reminded me of Percy's eyes stood in front of me.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," he informed.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she replied.

The door was pulled open wider, and I was greeted by the sight of a large Entrance Hall. Flaming torches lit the stone walls and the ceiling was so high that I wondered if there even was a ceiling to begin with. I spotted a large marble staircase leading up to the upper floors. Students sat around four long tables, and they were all stared at us when we began to walk in. There was some clapping along with friends and older siblings calling their younger siblings' name. I kept my head down, hoping that I wouldn't draw attention to myself. Of course, I stuck out. I was too tall for a first-year and my features weren't young enough. I noticed some longer stares and pointing in my direction, but I forced myself not to respond visibly to it.

Everybody seemed to be buzzing with excitement, and a hat was revealed before us. "So that's the test!" I heard Tara say, and I blinked in surprise. I hadn't know that there was any sort of 'testing' required. Maybe I should have expected it from a school of magic after all, but Hecate's cabin never required tests to be done before we could enter. To my surprise, the hat became animated and began belting out a song about the four different houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Apparently they were the Houses that we were to be sorted in. I assumed that it was like the cabins at Camp Half-Blood. Instead of godly parentage, Hogwarts had Houses. I could understand that concept. When it finished, the Great Hall erupted into applause.

Students were called up in order, and soon, "Pearl, Phoenix" was announced. I stumbled a little when I made my way towards the hat. My cumbersomeness was greeted by a few snickers, and heat rushed to my cheeks. Finally, I sat on the stool and the hat was placed over my head. It was so large and baggy that it covered my eyes, enveloping me in darkness. The hat was silent for a brief moment before it spoke. The voice was surprisingly tinny for something that could project its voice across the Great Hall. "Hmm, interesting," the voice muttered. "A drastic change in personality has occurred recently."

The hat was more accurate than I had expected it to be. It made a noise that might have been disappointment. "So idealistic," the hat said. "At least, you were until…something happened to change that."

I clenched my hands into fist when the unbidden memory of Luke's lifeless body flashed before my eyes. A shiver of understanding went through the hat at this thought, and I was suddenly aware that it had access to my thoughts at the moment. My hands inched to tear the hat off me and curl up in a tight ball where no one could hear my thoughts.

"Perhaps a Gryffindor if you had arrived before the time of tragedy. You're still trying to find your identity now… Hmm… Not very self-sacrificing after what you've witnessed, and does not react well to conformity. Better be in SLYTHERIN!"

The last part was shouted loud in my ear. I winched, shrinking backwards like it would help control the volume. The hat was removed from my head the moment the obligatory clapping began. I pushed my feet off from the floor and headed in the direction of the Slytherin table, noting that some of the people there didn't look very kind. I swallowed my fear and pressed on, forcing a cool expression on my face. A few first-years moved to make space for me when I sat down.

The rest of the sorting went by uneventfully. The younger girl that I had been in contact with for a brief moment, Tara, was sorted into Hufflepuff. It was then after the headmaster's speech when the feast started that I realized I was all alone. Brief fear gripped into my heart while I surveyed all the unfamiliar faces around me. There was no Rachel to chat casually with or Annabeth to discuss plans with. To distract myself from these thoughts, I began to dig into the food, pushing my cloak back a little so not to smear sauce and food all over it. A girl sitting across from me stared unabashedly at my clothing, and I realized that I was still wearing Thalia's choice outfit. My cheeks flushed, and I pulled my cloak around myself again, covering up the evidence of an oddity among them. Not for the first time, I felt like an outsider.

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><p><strong>Just an FYI, I'm not 100% sure where this idea is going, but I am definite that I will have a full outline once the final HoO book comes out...which it is not right now. Tell me what you want to happen, and I'll see whether or not I'll be able to put it in. No guarantees though. (I have this idealistic dream that everything in this fic is a literary device and references to something later on... *dreamy sigh*) If you haven't read the Sorting meta, you should read it nowww. Please?<strong>

**Reviews are highly appreciated. :)**


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